


Beautiful

by saltycvs



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - No Ice Skating, Character's Name Spelled as Viktor, Chubby Katsuki Yuuri, Kinda, Language Kink, Languages and Linguistics, M/M, Mutual Pining, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Slow Burn, So is Yuuri but more lowkey, They're going to reenact sex scenes and it's not going to go well, Viktor is Thirsty, Viktor is a russian tutor, Wingman Chris, Wingman phichit, Yuuri writes gay erotica, except still a little ice skating
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-07
Updated: 2017-04-16
Packaged: 2018-09-30 12:38:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 10,588
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10163213
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/saltycvs/pseuds/saltycvs
Summary: At 23 years old, Yuuri Katsuki is still a virgin, lives with his best friend Phitchit, and eats 2 minute ramen noodles on a daily.He has a Russian tutor, Viktor, who’s way too hot for his own good. They have one hour lessons every Thursday.Here’s the catch: it’s all for Yuuri’s gay erotica novel because he’s a trashy romance writer.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Here is an AU no one asked for. I decided that hey, I'm russian and I speak russian, why not abuse these factors to write gay shit?  
> This was on a whim, but I hope still enjoyable!
> 
> translations:
> 
> Ты прекрасный- You are beautiful (informal)  
> вы прекрасны- You are beautiful (formal)

“ _Ты прекрасный_.” ty prekrasnyy.

Yuuri just stares, dumbly. Doesn’t even attempt to write it down or repeat it in his own, garbled, heavily accented Russian (not that he actually knows any, but he’s trying, damn it).

  
“I– what?”

“ _Ты прекрасный_.” Viktor repeats patiently, with a smile on his face, as if the fact that Yuuri has been struggling with this for the past five minutes doesn’t matter.

Right. _Viktor_.       

Yuuri doesn’t really know how he got into this situation himself, but remembers vaguely asking his friend, who had a friend, who had a friend who apparently taught Russian to those who struggled with it, like Yuuri (and most of the population, he’s sure). He’d expected the tutor to be an aged, kindly woman, who spoke Russian better than English, who would’ve been entirely scandalised upon learning the real reason Yuuri considered learning the language in the first place.

You see, Yuuri writes gay erotica. He’s not famous for it, or anything. In fact, his stories are pretty tame, as these types of stories go. He has a part-time job, too, at a book-shop (the one that sells his own works, coincidentally), so it isn’t like he lives off of that alone, or spends all of his days writing out different scenarios of guys fucking. No, it’s just a little… hobby, of sorts. That’s makes him a living.

He, obviously, hadn’t known what he was thinking when he decided it would be a good idea to make one of his lead characters Russian, when Yuuri himself knew next to nothing about neither the language, nor their culture. Hell, he barely knows about skating itself, and that is what the plot of the book is about.

Perhaps, he’d been too ambitious with his ideas, and despite all of Phitchit’s advice and encouragement, it’ll come out just like any other trashy gay erotica out there on the market, with all of his facts muddled and unbelievable. Yuuri doesn’t want it to be like that, because he doesn’t write for the hell of it. He writes because he has good ideas, and most of the time these good ideas are what he wishes for for himself.

“Yuuri, are you alright?” Even though Viktor has switched to English, Yuuri can still hear the smokey Russian tones underneath, and fights a flush.

“Oh, yes. I just had a long night,” Yuuri only noticed the slip up when a small smirk settles over Viktor’s lips, and he flushes. “–uh, writing.” He finishes.

_Great job, Katsuki. Now he’ll think you’re a bore._

“You know, I’d love to read the novel once you’re finished. Considering we’re making such good progress.” The smirk stays on Viktor’s lips, before spreading into a smile, blue eyes crinkling at the corners slightly. They really haven’t made progress, but Viktor is sure he’s allowed to play it up a bit.

Yuuri, on the other hand, blanches, fingers curling around the edges of the note-pad in his lap. Oh, no, that’s not a good idea. Viktor can’t know. The thought that, somewhere down the line, he’d have to, considering some of the… naughtier bits of the story, hadn’t crossed Yuuri’s mind.

“Maybe, once it’s finished,” he says weakly, trying at a slight lopsided smile, so awkward next to Viktor’s radiating one. He wonders if it’s not too late to hope for that old Russian lady he’s been thinking would be his tutor at the start.

Viktor claps his hands together, practically radiating warmth. “Great! So, tell me, what are the feelings you’re trying to convey? I already know you want the skater to tell him he’s beautiful, but I need context. Russians are so… emotional.”

Yuuri gulps, because, from what he knows of Viktor (and that’s not much, granted. they met 20 minutes ago, which is enough for Yuuri to realise that Viktor is literally every wet dream he’s had as a teenager moulded into one perfect body) the man is emotional. His face had gone through excitement, seriousness and playfulness all in the span of their first session.

“I– well, uh, in the book, Valery, the… the other main character, when he sees Ori, he’s overwhelmed, so I suppose it just… slips out?” It sounds lame as it leaves Yuuri’s mouth, and he inwardly cringes. It looks a lot better on paper.

“So, it’s love at first sight?”

Yuuri is startled when Viktor leans forward, chin resting on the palm of his had. He splutters a little, red travelling up his neck.

“For him, yes. I think– so far, Ori really only wants that interview.”

“Hm, then I suppose _вы прекрасны_ , would work better.” vy prekrasny.

Yuuri furrows his brow, squinting at his note pad. “Why?”

“It’s the formal version of what I said previously. I suppose– Valery, is it? – would like to be charming, even if Ori can’t understand him.” Viktor winks.

He _fucking winks_.

Yuuri now stubbornly stares at his notepad and jerkily writes down what Viktor has told him, fingers gripping the pen far too tightly.

 

 

  
The second Yuuri comes home, he’s dropping his bag, notepad and pen on his desk, groaning loudly as he sinks into his old and worn chair, fingers finding dark hair and tugging on it mournfully.

“So, how’d it go?” Phitchit calls from the kitchen, and Yuuri answers him with a non-committal grunt, face still buried in his hands.

He hears puttering around, a cupboard closing, the water in the sink turning off, and he feels rather than sees Phitchit come through the door to his room, leaning on his desk beside Yuuri.

“ _That_ bad? Hey, listen, don’t be down, at least google translate is always an option, right?”

Yuuri lifts his face from his hands, lips twitching because only Phitchit would recommend using google translate after he, himself, had wished Yuuri happy birthday on Instagram, the caption entirely translated from English to Japanese. Hardly anything seemed right, but at that time Yuuri appreciated the sentiment either way.

“No, it was great. It was too great. He didn’t even think the two characters being gay was weird! And he’s…” Yuuri hesitates, “Really, really nice.”

“So you mean he’s hot as fuck?”

“No!”

Phitchit hums, “I know he is, i follow Chris on Instagram. There’s this one photo, where he’s practically naked. Here, wait, let me show–”

Yuuri stops him from reaching into his pocket to take out his phone with an indignant squeak, waving an arm around wildly. “No thanks! I won’t be able to look him in the eye next week!”

“So you are seeing him again, then.” Phitchit sounds _way_ too smug.

Yuuri groans, once again burying his face into his hands.

“Yuuri! Look on the bright side! You might get some hot and steamy ideas out of this! I thought your last sex scene in your previous book was rather dry, maybe Viktor could–”

Phitchit doesn’t get to finish his sentence before he’s getting hit in the face by a pillow Yuuri had snatched off his bed.

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Phichit is a great friend and Viktor has no patience.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wow wow wow! thank you all SO MUCH for the support. I can't believe so many of you received this silly idea of mine well. This is a very new writing style for me (a little more humorous/fast paced) and I'm glad it's working out so far. I got this chapter out super fast, the next will probably be out next week and will be a little longer!
> 
> TRANSLATIONS:  
> привет- privyet/hello (casual)  
> красавец- krasavyets/cutie

Yuuri wakes up late, fumbling around his bedside drawer to find the glasses he had haphazardly placed on top the night before. He slips them on, groans when the blurry room around him finally swims into view, and makes to move out of bed.

 _Shit_.

He pauses, brows furrowed, fingers gripping the edge of his blanket.

Heat floods his cheeks, unhindered, and he makes another sound of distress, though it’s nothing compared to the casual, tired grumble he’s released before, while searching for his glasses.

There’s an uncomfortable, slightly sticky feeling between his legs, and he hasn’t been this embarrassed since he got shit-faced at a club the year before with Phichit, from which photos are still circling the Internet (though Yuuri flat-out refuses to look at them; he doesn’t need a reminder of that time, thanks).

It’s not just the fact that he had come into his pants like a teenager. It’s that he knew exactly why.

Falling back against his pillows, glasses now askew, Yuuri rubs at his face. He remembers flashes of his dream, of silver hair and a teasing voice and ты прекрасный.

No, it’s not because he, an adult, had come into his pants. It’s most definitely because he had done so after dreaming of one certain Viktor Nikiforov, who he knew for a grand total of one hour.

It shouldn’t be as embarrassing as it is, Yuuri knows. Viktor is attractive. Really, really attractive. It shouldn’t be that bad, it’s a natural reaction, after all. To Viktor’s beautiful eyes, the curve of his lips, his fingers– _fuck_.

Yuuri stops that train of thought right there.

Getting out of bed proves difficult, because all Yuuri wants to do is stay there and mope about his developing and entirely inappropriate attraction towards his new Russian tutor. Who’s going to help him write a gay porno. Fuck. How did he ever think this was a good idea?

Yuuri takes a brisk shower, making sure the water is a touch colder than he’d usually like it, brushes his teeth and tries to fix the awful bed-head he seems to be sporting that moment. He gives up after a minute or so, but not for the lack of trying. It seems like nothing will cooperate with him today.

In the kitchen, he fixes himself a cup of coffee and some toast (he’s been trying to cut down on eating so much in the mornings, he gains weight easily enough as it is) before checking the fridge for a note from Phichit.

As usual, there’s a lined piece of paper stuck to the front with a jaunty little fridge magnet, all in his friend’s rushed handwriting.

 

**_Morning sleeping beauty!_ **

**_Hope you had a good night’s rest (dream of Prince Charming? ;) ). There’s coffee in the jug, and don’t forget to eat._ **

**_I’ll pop by the book store later to chat, you better fill me in with all the details about your ‘session’ that you missed yesterday. I want to know everything._ **

**_And I mean everything._ **

**_Bestest best friend, Phichit._ **

 

Yuuri smiles.

Despite being a little (a _lot_ ) social-media crazy and intent on setting Yuuri up with someone, Phichit is the bestest best friend. Really, Yuuri didn’t know what he’d do without him. He wouldn’t be writing gay erotica though, that’s for sure.

He checks the clock. There’re still a few hours left until he has to leave for his shift at the book store (he hadn’t slept in as late as he thought, after all), and he has time to kill. Sighing, Yuuri boots up his laptop, cup of coffee by his elbow and toast half finished.

He’s sure he can get a bit of writing done. Yesterday’s session with Viktor, though not very productive, definitely caused Yuuri to think, and not in just the sexual sense. The way he spoke and held himself really spoke volumes to Yuuri. Viktor had been so elegant, pulling out his chair, sitting down in it so swiftly, leaving Yuuri gaping in his wake. Like a dancer.

Yuuri wonders if figure skaters would be the same.

As he types, Yuuri catches himself describing Valery’s hair as a grey-tinged blond exactly three times, and his green eyes a clear sky blue a whooping five. It’s frustrating, because Yuuri knows this is the best he’s written in a while, even though it hadn’t been what he’d originally planned.

In the end, Yuuri corrects his mistakes and keeps blanks where he wants to fill in the chapter with Russian phrases, leaving behind Valery and Ori at a restaurant, staring heatedly into each other’s eyes.

 

 

 

The first few hours of work go by smoothly. There’re a few people, so far mostly parents, buying books for their kids, and Yuuri helps out easily. In fact, as much as he hates to admit it, his time that night had really left him unstrung; smiling at customers with a brighter look and a little less need for caffeine.

Phichit joins him later in the afternoon, when most of the people have passed and there’s no one left in the shop. Perhaps there’ll be a few stragglers along yet, but right now Yuuri deems it safe to accept the warm espresso that Phichit had brought him, sitting down on the counter behind him.

“Spill it, Katsuki.”

Yuuri almost spills the coffee, instead, but catches it in time to not overtip.

“I told you! We talked!”

“Yeah, I know, but what about? Did you flirt? Please tell me you at _least_ told him you’re writing gay porn. Oh, do you know how to say dick in Russian?”

“No, I didn’t flirt. Phichit, for all I know, he’s straight. No, I haven’t told him what I’m writing yet exactly, and I most certainly hadn’t asked how to say dick in Russian.” Yuuri will use google once it came to that point. He will _not_ ask Viktor Nikiforov about Russian cocks.

Phichit snorts. “Viktor? Straight? Don’t kid yourself.” He takes a sip of his own coffee, even as Yuuri shakes his head.

The doorbell jingles, and Yuuri immediately straightens up, shooing Phichit away from behind the desk, perking up with a smile.

Surprise settles over his features, brows raise up, the smile slips slightly, becoming more confused than anything.

“Yuuri, _привет_!”

Yuuri sees Phichit give him a thumbs-up from one of the aisles filled with books, and quickly tears his eyes away to look at Viktor.

Gorgeous, gorgeous Viktor. Oh, God, he’s literally wearing a cardigan, why is that so hot? Yuuri fights his blush, understanding enough of Russian to catch the easy greeting.

“Uh, Viktor! Hello. What are you doing here?” He’s just here to get a book, of course he is. Yuuri almost slams a hand to his forehead in embarrassment.

“Chris, Phichit’s friend who recommended me, told me you worked here.” Viktor says, bright smile lighting up his features and rendering Yuuri utterly speechless.

Viktor leans forward on the counter on his elbows, blue eyes never leaving Yuuri’s. They both stay silent for a while, until Viktor points behind Yuuri.

“Is that a French dictionary?”

Yuuri looks around him, startled, before nodding affirmation.

Viktor hums, the same easy smile finding its way back to his features. “May I? I’m learning French myself. I’ve always had an affinity for languages, you see.”

Yuuri is sure Viktor is created just for the sole purpose of giving him a heart attack. Just thought of the other man, speaking French– not for now.

Nodding, Yuuri turns around, bending down to retrieve the dictionary, passing it over to Viktor once he straightens out, running a nervous hand through his messy hair (it hadn’t settled since that morning).

“Thank you. How much?”

Yuuri runs the dictionary through, taking Viktor’s money and thanking him professionally. At least this, he knows how to do. He’s not prepared when Viktor, book in hand, leans over the desk, two long fingers reaching out and pushing Yuuri’s glasses up his nose with another charming smile.

“See you next week, _красавец_.”

He leaves the bookshop with another casual, “Bye, Phichit!”

Yuuri’s heart is beating so fast he wonders if it’s possible for it to simply jump right out of his chest. He wonders if Viktor is touchy like this with everyone. If it’s a Russian thing or simply a Viktor thing.

“Holy shit, Yuuri! He totally checked out your ass!” Phichit comes running out from an aisle, taking Yuuri’s shoulders and shaking him none too gently, excitement lining his features.

Yuuri shakes his head, smiling slightly. He couldn’t have, could he? There was really nothing to 'check out’ as Phichit had said. In fact, Yuuri is rather plain, and on the chubbier side. His jeans are looser, too, Yuuri a little too self conscious of the ones that stretch over him too much.

“No, he couldn’t have. Come on, it’s time for me to close up.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Viktor is lovesick. Like, really, really lovesick.
> 
> The infamous drunk scene makes a return.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ahhh, I know i said next week, but I couldn't help but release this today! it's a little shorter, but mostly because I wanted to make something from Viktor's POV and his history with Yuuri a little clearer. Plus, Chris makes an appearance.
> 
> TRANSLATIONS:
> 
> C'est èrotique- It's sexy  
> Oui, ce l'est- Yes, it is  
> О Боже- Oh god

“He’s going to be the death of me. Yuuri and his pretty eyes and that hair! That _hair_ , Chris! It should be illegal, it looks so soft!” Viktor has been like this for a solid hour now, lying with his head in Chris’ lap, staring at the ceiling of his friend’s apartment.

 

It’s funny how this had all worked out. Chris would call Viktor lovesick, and he supposes he is, in some way, but that would mean he’s been lovesick for a whole year. A year where he hadn’t even seen Yuuri (except on Phichit’s Instagram. Which he _definitely_ didn’t stalk for their friendship selfies. Not at all). Is that even possible?

 

If it’s Yuuri, _yes_.

 

“I know, Vitya. I was the one who pointed him out to you at that party, remember?” Chris hums, petting Viktor’s hair as the other groans.

 

“I can’t believe I bought a French dictionary just because it was behind him! I’m the worst.” Viktor throws an arm over his face. “I don’t even plan on studying French! I have no use for it.”

 

“ _C'est érotique_ ,” Chris says, raising a brow, a smirk playing at his lips.

 

“ _Oui, ce l'est_.” Viktor grins into his arm, even as Chris smacks at his shoulder. He does know some French, of course he does. He hadn’t lied to Yuuri when he said that he takes to languages quickly, but the desire to study it had been a little white lie. Viktor decided that it had been all worth it when Yuuri’s pretty face flushed that adorable red colour. If Yuuri liked it, though, Viktor is sure he could push his limited vocabulary and please him _somehow_.

 

“I didn’t think you’d go rushing off to the place he works at the second I told you. You probably freaked the poor boy out bad. You only saw him yesterday. For all he knows, you only met yesterday!”

 

“I know,” Viktor moans, hiding his face again. “I just couldn’t help myself. I won’t go again, not until next week, I promise. I was going to ask for one of his books, but I couldn’t. He looked so shocked.”

 

Maybe it hadn’t been a good idea. Maybe he’d gone too far. Yuuri had looked uncomfortable, too, and that’s the last thing Viktor wanted. It just couldn’t stop surprising him, how different Yuuri is from the night he’d met him. In fact, Viktor thinks that this version of Yuuri (the real version) is just that much more endearing than the forward, sexual creature he’s met before.

He still wants to find out what exactly Yuuri writes. Back at that club, he’d told him that he wrote about handsome guys like Viktor, and that’s proven by what he wishes to be edited in their tutoring sessions, but that could mean _anything_ , couldn’t it? Even though Viktor had thought about it for a while, he couldn’t pin Yuuri for a writer of any specific genre. If he had to judge by the Yuuri he’d met yesterday, he would say children’s books, or fantasy; something cutes-y and simple. Judging by the Yuuri he’d met the year prior, he’d say romance, but the good kind of romance, that actually has your toes curling and heat pooling in your belly—not the trashy sort that Chris prefers, the ones that make Viktor snort with laughter. Perhaps it’s neither, perhaps Yuuri writes dry biographies. Viktor finds that he doesn’t exactly care. He’d read about _paint drying_ , if that’s what it was.

Although he’s sure that a love story with a Russian man would not be involved in a novel about paint drying.

 

“ _О Боже_ , and when he bent over! Chris– his ass, his _thighs_!” Viktor is suddenly struck by a piece of information that he hadn’t shared with Chris yet, which is more than vital.

Chris rubs at his shoulder soothingly, though a smile threatens at his lips. “Yeah, I remember. And his friend too– damn.”

 

Viktor finally takes his arm away from his eyes, turning his head to look at Chris directly, light brows furrowing down. There’s confusion painted there, because Viktor is forgetful, especially when that night he’d been under the influence. Not forgetful enough to wipe Yuuri from his mind; though. He hadn’t been nearly as drunk as the other, then, and even if he had been, Viktor doubts he would’ve ever forgotten something as singular and wonderful as Yuuri Katsuki. He may not remember Chris interacting with Yuuri’s friend directly, but he knows exactly who he is. “You mean Phichit? You didn’t end up taking him home?”

 

“No, he needed to drive Yuuri back, but we did implement the toilets quite nicely. Don’t think he wants anything more, though. We just text now, as you know.” Chris shakes his head, but Viktor, knowing him for a long time now, catches a tint of hesitance to his voice.

 

He frowns. Viktor wonders if there’s something more to the way Chris is talking about Phichit, but Chris would tell Viktor if he was feeling anything, wouldn’t he? Sighing, Viktor realises that he’s already having a hard time figuring out how he should go about treating Yuuri, let alone figuring out what his best friend is feeling for his crush’s (crush, what is he, fourteen?) best friend.

 

“Are you _sure_ he doesn’t remember?” Viktor perks up again, finger tapping at his bottom lip. “Maybe he just doesn’t want to bring it up. Maybe he’s embarrassed?” He knows it’s futile. Viktor is searching for anything, and everything, that could perhaps excuse the fact that Yuuri doesn’t remember the night, or why he hadn’t texted Viktor after the other had hastily scribbled his phone number on the back of Yuuri’s hand. “He told me I was so hot, his next novel would be about all the things he wanted to do to me.” Viktor adds, wistfully.

 

Chris laughs before shoving Viktor off his lap, standing up and stretching his arms above his head. “I told you, he doesn’t. Phichit confirmed it. Apparently, Yuuri has a tendency to black out completely if he’s too drunk. He probably washed your number off, without knowing who wrote it down. Do you want a drink?”

 

Viktor shakes his head. “No. I have another student in thirty minutes. I’ll see you later?” Picking up his jacket, Viktor casts Chris another imploring stare but, convinced that he’s pressed his friend for enough information and sympathy, he grins his goodbye, waving to Chris and letting himself out the door.

 

 

 

The second Viktor leaves, Chris collapses back onto the coach, drawing out his phone and unlocking it quickly, clicking on his messenger app.

 

**_Christophe Giacometti: Phichit, darling! How are you doing? I think there’s something we have to talk about._ **

****

**_Phichit Chulanont: Funny thing, I was just going to say the same thing._ **

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey guys! I'm basically winging it with this fic, so if there's anything you'd like to see me write, suggest it down below! I'll see what I can do <3


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Phichit and Chris have their date, uh, plotting session, and Yuuri makes a bad (good) decision

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is out is a little later but also a little bit longer! Thank you for the amazing support, I hope you enjoy.  
> No translations in this one.

Chris meets Phichit at a quaint cafe that has a _lot_ of pink decorations. It’s not really big, or anything, not something that Chris would choose himself for a date (though this isn’t a date. It’s a meeting between friends. Friends who sucked each other’s dicks, maybe, but friends nonetheless. Friends who are now trying to get two of their other friends together) but it’s nice enough. Phichit claims it has wonderful lighting and an aesthetic look. Chris can’t argue with that.

In the end, Chris is five minutes late and Phichit ten, but they both manage to find a table fairly easily and order themselves drinks before cutting straight to the chase.

“So,” Phichit starts, leaning forward on the table with his elbows. “They’re utterly done for. Honestly, I don’t think I’ve seen Yuuri this whiny about anyone, ever. Scratch that, I _know_ I haven’t seen him like this before. We need to figure something out quick. I love Yuuri and all, he’s my best friend, but this’ll only get _worse_.”

“Don’t I know it. Viktor spent all of yesterday talking about Yuuri and how pretty he is. Not to deny it, Yuuri is quite a catch, but my tastes certainly lie somewhere else,” Chris had never been one to be shy, and so flirts _unabashedly_ , like he usually does. It makes Phichit laugh and snort into his coffee.

“Are you sure Yuuri doesn’t remember that night? Viktor sounds so hopeful that he does, but I always tell him no. Even if he did, it seems like Yuuri doesn’t want to bring it up.” That night had been fun, but Chris could see Yuuri’s reasoning for trying to push it down. Though Chris is more than used to nights like that, and likes them more than should be _allowed_ , for someone who hadn’t been drunk off his ass before it could be all too overwhelming to take in the next morning. Plus, Chris would rather forget his first time on a pole too (and begrudgingly admits Yuuri had been so much better than him for his first time).

Phichit shakes his head, “No, I’m positive he doesn’t. He might, bits and pieces, but couldn’t tell me anything past his third shot. He doesn’t want to look at any of the pictures from it, either.” Though Phichit finds the photos hilarious, his friend probably won’t, knowing his anxiety and self-consciousness of his body, of which he’d bared a lot at the time. After the few times he’d offered to show the photos, Phichit stopped offering, knowing that if Yuuri didn’t want to have it brought up, it was best to leave it alone.

“But the _coincidence_! Yuuri, writing about a handsome Russian skater sweeping a cute reporter off his feet!”

“Shush, you’re not supposed to know about the plot! Only Viktor and I are allowed.” Phichit warns, though he’s grinning.

“Oh, right,” Chris comically lowers his voice to a purr, leaning further towards Phichit, before resuming his previous exclamation, “You think Yuuri might remember something? Yesterday, Viktor told me that Yuuri had drunkenly promised to write his next book about him. Can you believe?”

Phichit _squeals_ , slamming his hands down on the table and startling a few nearby customers, who hurriedly return to their respectable drinks and food. “He told you what? That’s _rich_! I hadn’t heard that, and I thought I knew all the dirty details about that night.” He pauses, “So he knows about the erotica thing, then?”

“No, don’t think so. Vitya can be thick, sometimes, when it comes to these things.”

“I’m sure _Yuuri_ hopes he’s thick,” Phichit snorts again, grinning, and Chris laughs out loud, drawing the attention of other’s in the room to them this time himself. One lady sends them a dirty look, even as Chris shoots back a, “Yuuri can rest assured, he _is_.”

Chris can safely say that no, he no longer harbours a crush on his best friend, but they had slept together a few times back in the day. It’d been nice, though nothing special, just two friends helping each other out when they were too tired to go out to a bar and pick someone up, but too strung out to just use their own hand.

Phichit covers his mouth with a hand, eyes growing wide above it. It doesn’t come as a shock. In fact, he would’ve been surprised if Chris and Viktor hadn’t had sex at some point in their lives, just as Yuuri and Phichit had messed around in their late teens. Just a couple of messy kisses to try it out, nothing more, so Yuuri’s innocence is still largely intact, but Phichit still counts it as something. It’s just funny, how this is all working out. They all know their respectable friends as, well, more than friends, and are trying to get them together.

He collects himself enough not to scream and frighten the other customers further. “Should we tell him, about the erotica thing? Maybe then Viktor could finally get it together and just ask him out.”

“I think we should wait, it’d be a lot more fun that way. You said Yuuri writes under a pseudonym, right? Maybe we could hint at what it is, watch Viktor work it out...” Chris taps his bottom lip, smirking as he muses.

Phichit gasps, throwing a hand over his heart. “I can’t believe you haven’t read my best friend’s works! I’m hurt!”

Chris laughs, finishing off his coffee and setting it down. “ _Might’ve_ , I’ve read my fair share of erotica, let me tell you.”

Sighing, Phichit takes out his phone, tapping out a message before hitting send. “Here, I sent you a link, and start dropping hints next time you see Viktor. Operation... viktor and yuuri? _Viktuuri_ is in the works.”

They both stand up, putting on their jackets. Chris takes out his wallet before Phichit can, and the younger boy throws his hands up, admitting his defeat and agreeing to letting Christophe pay for their coffee. He’s a struggling coffee-shop worker himself, it isn’t like it’s much of a chore to let someone else pay for a nice time.

“So, _Petit_ , any chance you can come home with me?” Chris speaks up again, flirtatious smirk playing at his lips. It’s not really a serious invitation, he knows he’s going to be shot down quickly, but for old times (could it be counted as old times? It’s really just his _personality_ ) sake.

“No, sorry, Yuuri is going to be home soon and I have to practise my innocent expression before he does. Hold the thought, though,” Phichit winks before he’s out of the door, a little faster than he normally would have if he weren’t rushing to get home before his best friend.

 

* * *

 

 

Yuuri comes home from the bookshop to a suspiciously smiling Phichit, but doesn’t question it. Doesn’t question it when Phichit says he ordered Chinese takeout and that Yuuri will have his peace for the night so that he could write. Suspicious as it is, Yuuri definitely doesn’t mind, and is willing to overlook the strange behaviour for now. He’ll ask about it later, of course, because a suspicious Phichit is a _dangerous_ Phichit, but right now he wants to enjoy the quiet time with Chinese food, his his bed, and the gay erotica he’s writing.

God, sometimes Yuuri himself can’t believe that someone like him is writing in the _genre_ he is. It’s so out of element with Yuuri’s everyday life, where he works at a respectable book store and has been single since the one time he went out with a girl in high school.

A thought strikes Yuuri in the midst of writing, the moment where Ori is about to leave Valery after finishing their interview together. His teeth sink into his bottom lip. He couldn’t possibly ask Viktor how to write that, could he? Would Viktor find it too much? Even as Yuuri takes out his phone, he hesitates on clicking Viktor’s contact (that Phichit had given him so that Yuuri could contact Viktor about their sessions). Perhaps google translate would be better, less _judgemental_ , certainly.

Yuuri gasps, realising he’s sent the message on accident, before giving it further thought. He fumbles with his phone, trying to find a way to delete the message as quickly as possible because god, what had he been thinking? Viktor will think him weird, a _pervert_. why hadn't he just looked it up on the internet and then clear his search history like a normal person? But, it’s too late, because it already says read.

_**Yuuri Katsuki: Viktor, how would you say ‘come back to my hotel and spend the night with me,’ in Russian?** _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!   
> What do you think Yuuri's pseudonym should be? And, as always, if you have any suggestions for this story, don't hesitate to pitch them to me!
> 
> Also, since there'll be more Russian in the next few chapters, would all of you be alright with me using the cyrillic alphabet, or would it be preferable to translate the cyrillic to latin script? Either way, I'll be putting all translations at the top when using Russian words.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Viktor is extra, Chris is exasperated and Yuuri is really questioning his career choices.
> 
> or; Viktor's reaction and Yuuri getting flustered over the porn he writes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> still amazed over the amount of support I'm getting for this fic! Here's a quick (but slightly longer) chapter for you guys. Things are finally heating up!
> 
> TRANSLATIONS:  
> Прости - prosti/sorry (casual)  
> хочешь вернутся со мной в отель? - khochesh' vernutsya so mnoy v otel'/want to come back to my hotel with me?

When Viktor hears the ‘ _ping_ ’ of his phone signifying a message, he pauses in trying to get Makkachin’s latest chew toy from her mouth (she loves it when Viktor throws the toy, but absolutely refuses to give it back for more throws), considering whether to give up and answer the call or continue playing with his dog. The thought that it might be Yuuri makes him rush to the coach where his phone rests.

When he sees that it _is_ from Yuuri, Viktor hurriedly opens up the messaging app, wide smile on his face. He hadn’t expected the younger man to text so soon! Perhaps he really wasn’t mad at him for the unannounced visit to the bookshop, and Viktor still has a chance to convince Yuuri that he isn’t a complete creep.

 

**_Yuuri Katsuki: Viktor, how would you say ‘come back to my hotel and spend the night with me,’ in Russian?_ **

 

The light flush that had been present on Viktor’s face from rushing over to his phone so quickly and the thought of Yuuri texting him faded from his face, the grin slipping into a surprised 'o’. He double checks, then _triple_ checks the message, wanting to make sure this wasn’t him projecting, that Yuuri had really just written and sent that to him.

Is Yuuri flirting? It _sounds_ like he’s flirting. The man he’d met at the bar the year before, he would’ve flirted like that, Viktor is sure. But, no, the Yuuri Katsuki he has recently become acquainted with wouldn’t be so bold. Would he? Viktor stares at the message for a few seconds longer, just to ingrain it into his brain, make sure that the jumble of letters make sense to him.

His fingers pause over the keypad. What can he reply? Should he flirt back? But he’s not sure that Yuuri is even flirting. Maybe this is purely for his novel. A novel that is probably geared towards adults. Viktor mentally checks children’s books off his list of possible genres Yuuri writes in. He types out something ambiguous, slightly _naughty_ , but hesitates to send. What if this isn’t what Yuuri had intended?

Lost for what to do, Viktor makes a decision.

He calls Chris.

“Chris? _Chris_! There’s an emergency,” He exclaims the second that Chris picks up the phone.

“Did Makka choke again?” Chris’ voice sounds startled on the other side, but also tired. As if Viktor woke him up from a nap. Viktor finds that, for the first time, he isn’t worried or ready to mother-hen.

“No! Look, Yuuri sent me this text and it—”

“Did you really just wake me up because Yuuri texted you? Bother me once he’s gone down on you, not–”

“Chris, listen! He didn’t just text me, he texted me something… well, _shocking_?”

“Nudes?”

“No! Stop interrupting! I memorized it, here, he asked me how to say 'come back to my hotel and spend the night with me,’ in Russian.” Viktor pauses, hand clutched over his heart. Just the thought of Yuuri, thinking of asking Viktor that question, is doing things to him.

There’s a pause on the other line, “Viktor, why don’t you just answer his question? You know Yuuri, he wouldn’t dare text something raunchy.”

Viktor smacks a hand to his forehead, “Of course! _[Прости](/)_ , Chris, I was just so shocked! I thought he was being flirtatious. I almost sent him a flirty text back, can you believe? Thanks for the help!” He hears Chris grumble something more in a sleep-addled voice before clicking off, returning his attention to Yuuri’s text.

“This’ll be easy, right, Makka? We’ll just answer his message. There’s nothing to it.” Viktor hums, looking back down at his dog, who is now sitting on her (really expensive) dog bed (Viktor wonders why he’d even bought one for her in the first place, considering she always sleeps with him). Viktor’s finger taps on the delete button, and when he looks down, his brows draw together.

Oh, that hadn’t been the delete button. That has been the _send_ button. The send button that had sent Viktor’s original text.

_**Viktor Nikiforov: want me to show you what it means instead?** _

 

 

 

It has been ten minutes, and Viktor hadn’t written a reply yet. The ' _read_ ’ notification blares into Yuuri’s face, and he bites at his nails. He knew he’d gone too far. Cursing himself, Yuuri locks his phone, pointedly looking away from it as he gets up to fix himself a cup of green tea.

He almost considers asking Phichit how he can fix this mess, but decides against it in the last second. He’s already complained to his best friend enough, Phichit is probably tired of hearing Yuuri moan about his writing without bringing Viktor into it. Shaking his head, Yuuri makes straight for their little kitchen, putting on the kettle and leaning his hip against the counter.

Just as Yuuri is pouring himself a cup of tea, there’s a buzz from his room, and he almost spills the boiling hot water all over himself in an attempt to rush and check the notification.

The second he unlocks his phone and checks the reply, some of the tea _does_ over-spill onto Yuuri’s lap, making him hiss at the feeling and rush to mop at the wet patch with a nearby sweater. He’s too flustered to get up and grab a towel. Surely, Viktor couldn’t mean this in _that_ way. It may be a translation error of his English, that’s all. Yuuri convinces himself of that enough to stop his heart from beating so rapidly.

**_Viktor Nikiforov: Want me to show you what it means?_ **

 

 

 

Viktor is sure that whoever is up there wishes to cockblock him as much as possible. First, Yuuri forgets their night together, and now Viktor has to go and fuck it up with a thoughtless text. He holds his breath as he watches the three dots pop up on his screen, showing Yuuri typing.

 

**_Yuuri Katsuki: pardon?_ **

 

Viktor breathes a sigh of relief.

At least it wasn’t a ' _you creep_ ,’ or ' _never text me again_.’ No, Yuuri just sounds… confused. That Viktor can deal with. There’s still time to fix things and take back his mistake.

 

**_Viktor Nikoforov: I mean, of course I’ll translate it for you. Call me?_ **

 

There’s a minute or two of silence from Viktor’s phone, where he wonders whether he’s overstepped the line and should’ve stayed helping Yuuri through text instead, before Yuuri calls. Viktor doesn’t think he’s ever picked a phone call up so quickly before in his life.

“Yuuri! Good evening, right?” Viktor says the second he answers the call, hoping that being pleasant will make Yuuri forget his uncalled-for reply. “I must say, I was a little surprised when you texted me! I didn’t think you would so quickly!”

“Uh, well, yes, an idea had struck me and I wanted to ask you. I’m sorry if it’s late, I can always–”

“ _Yuu_ -ri, I’m always happy to help. Now, usually we’d say '[хочешь вернутся со мной в отель?](/)’ It's a little vague, but it’s a little more casual this way.” Viktor explains, before pausing, “How does that sound?”

 

 

 

 _Really_ fucking hot, Yuuri thinks on the other end of the line, heat travelling up his neck and darkening his cheeks.

 

 

 

  
“Good! Yes, that sounds good. Could you repeat it a few times? And… slower? I’m still rusty with my Cyrillic.” Viktor hears, and is satisfied that he manages to help Yuuri.

He repeats the words a few more times, this time drawing them out so that Yuuri has time to write it out. He hears the tapping of the keys in the background, and notes that it takes Yuuri a couple of tries to get it right, even with Viktor repeating the sentence over and over again. Viktor hears a final click and a sigh, signalling that Yuuri has finished writing the sentence down.

“Thanks, really, you’re a great help. I’ll… I’ll pay you next week, promise.” Yuuri says, and Viktor catches uncertainty in his words.

“No need, this only took a few minutes, right? I’m always glad to help,” Viktor quickly steps in because goodness knows, he would teach Yuuri Russian for _free_ any day of the week, for whatever amount of time. As long as Yuuri asked.

“If you’re sure,” Yuuri still sounds hesitant to Viktor, but he’ll take it. “See you soon?”

“Bye, Yuuri!” He hangs up with a grin on his face, falling back on the coach and running a hand through Makkachin’s fur when she jumps up next to him.

 

 

 

 

_“ **хочешь вернутся со мной в отель?** ” Valery says heatedly as he stares into Ori’s eyes, fingers curling around his elbow where he’d caught him, stopping him from leaving their interview hurriedly. Ori’s eyes widen, his breath catches in his chest as he gives a tight gasp. The words were so warm, so laced with seductive intent that he didn’t even need to know what they were exactly. That didn’t stop him from saying, “I don’t understand,” quietly, so that only Valery could hear._

_Valery leans in closer, his mouth hovering close to Ori’s ear as he purred, “I asked if you would like to come back to my hotel with me. I can show you how I move **off** the ice.”_

 

That is when Yuuri hurriedly shuts his laptop, flushing. Each time he writes scenes like this, he can’t help but get worked up; _embarrassed_. It shouldn’t matter that he doesn’t know what he’s doing, or that these naughty bits are suddenly so much more personal after meeting Viktor. He needs a break. Drinking his slowly cooling green tea, he prepares for bed, stubbornly telling himself that he absolutely refuses to dream about a certain, handsome, silver-haired Russian man.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for making it this far! As always, feel free to make any suggestions for this fic, and I'll see what i can do about it! I'm really winging it here. Also, hit me up on my tumblr and talk to me about the fic/victuuri/send me prompts!


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yuuri has some 'me-time' and Viktor finally finds out the truth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Phew, the explicit rating finally makes it's appearance! I hope you'll like this :)  
> I'm so sorry this chapter took me a while to get out, but I'm very busy with school. But, it's a longer one so I hope you guys don't mind!  
> Thank you for the crazy amount of support, it's been lovely reading all your comments.  
> I wrote all of this instead of my history assignment. 
> 
> TRANSLATIONS:  
> детка- detka/baby  
> котенок - kotyonok/kitty (a very popular russian endearment)  
> моя любвь - moya lyobov'/my love

Yuuri doesn’t wake up late that day, which is a surprise in itself, because on the average, Yuuri wakes up twenty minutes after his alarm (despite setting it three times), runs around his room dressing, brushes his teeth in record time and barely has time to eat a proper breakfast despite Phichit always fussing over him and chastising his awful morning routine (going as far as to offer some youtube videos on self care to help him out, while Yuuri politely declines). It’s more surprising considering today is the day Yuuri doesn’t go along to the bookstore, and instead gets to stay home, writing his latest novel. Usually, on these days, Yuuri stays in bed until noon, catching up on the sleep he’s missed during the week, visits Phichit at the coffee store, and somehow manages to crank out a few chapters. All in all, it’s a perfect arrangement.

After lying in bed for a few more minutes, Yuuri realises that sleep has slipped away completely now, leaving him staring open-eyed at the wall of which his little, single bed was pushed up against. There’re a few stains there, either from age or when he might’ve accidentally jostled his tea too much and the substance sank into the wallpaper. Kicking his covers off, Yuuri drags himself from bed, groaning slightly and checking the time on his phone one more time before slipping his glasses on.

Walking out of his room, he sees that the door to Phichit’s room is still closed, which means he’s still asleep. A smug smile slips on Yuuri’s features. Usually, his best friend is up first, meaning he has the bathroom all to himself and, naturally, spends too much time in it taking outfit of the day pictures while the shower is on, leaving Yuuri with barely a few minutes of hot water. Even though Yuuri isn’t prone to taking long showers either way, he plans to enjoy the hot water as well as he can today.

The steam from the shower blurs the mirror even as Yuuri brushes his teeth and strips, letting the water heat up slightly. He doesn’t mind it. He never looks his best in the morning and doesn’t wish to study his body, either.  He’s gained a bit of weight recently, with how much he’s been sitting down and writing and barely doing anything behind the bookshops’ cash register, and while he’s always been prone to putting weight, he’s definitely on the chubbier side _now_. With his lack of dancing like he used to, his stomach is soft, and thighs even softer. Yuuri frowns and shakes his head to clear his thoughts before hopping into the shower.

“Oh, god, this is _good_ ,” Yuuri murmurs as the warm water hits his back, having to bite his lip before he unconsciously moans.  Perhaps waking up earlier is worth this.

Unbidden, his thoughts drift to Viktor. He doesn’t even realise how it happens, only that the warmth of the water reminds Yuuri of Viktor’s heart-shaped smile, the one that he gave Yuuri when he leaned over the counter to push up his glasses. Viktor, of whom he asked that embarrassing question last night.

Yuuri chews on his lips as he shampoos his hair, remember the reply that Viktor gave. Obviously, it was an error, or maybe Yuuri simply read it wrong, but he can’t help imagining it if really had been real. If Viktor really wanted to... _show him_. If, perhaps, Viktor’s playful gaze was flirtatious rather than friendly. Yuuri imagines that instead of Ori and Valery, it was Viktor and him in the novel. Viktor, the famous skater (he has the body for it, Yuuri thinks, shameless in this moment), and Yuuri, the fan. If Viktor had really asked Yuuri whether he’d like to come back to his hotel with him, just because he found Yuuri desirable.

Feeling heat pooling in his belly, Yuuri whines, hand drifting from his hair (rinsed, now) to his chest. He knows that real life Viktor, Viktor who hadn’t asked Yuuri to spend a night with him, probably wouldn’t like him as he is but, _imaginary_ Viktor, Viktor who heatedly presses his lips to Yuuri’s ear and leads him to bed, would like his softness. Yuuri wonders if that Viktor would complement Yuuri’s ass and thighs, kiss his stomach and leave as many hickeys there as he wanted. Yuuri pinches a nipple, groaning softly. He rarely does this, so rarely that he’s too pent up to really enjoy it or make himself wait for it, his cock already half-hard and resting against his thigh; just from the thought of Viktor. His other hand grabs at his ass, squeezing, wondering if Viktor would do the same, if Viktor, with all his harder edges, would love the softness there. That same hand drifts to his cock, giving it a few pumps before it is completely hard.

Moaning, Yuuri rests his forehead against the shower wall, trying to keep as quiet as possible. Even though Phichit is still asleep and the noise of the shower should drown out any noise, Yuuri can’t help but feel embarrassed at his sounds, so lewd about jerking off to a man he barely knows. That wet dream doesn’t count; he had barely remembered it, anyway.

He imagines that it’s Viktor’s hand on him. Viktor would know just what to do, would bring Yuuri off so well. He imagines Viktor praising him in Russian, calling him those pretty names; Yuuri’s vocabulary is limited, but he knows that the words _[детка](/)_ , [_котенок_ ](/)and _[моя любвь](/) _ would send him over the edge, only if they were whispered in Viktor’s voice (though he doesn’t even hope for the last one, even in his imagination, hoping to be Viktor’s love is going too far). Yuuri moans again and his grip on his cock tightens, wrist moving faster, now.

The thought of Viktor murmuring into Yuuri’s ear about how beautiful he is and how good he feels makes Yuuri cum all over the shower wall with a soft cry of Viktor's name, leaving him panting hard and shivering despite the warmth of the shower.

He watches the water wash away the evidence, guilt replacing the heat in his belly. God, he hadn’t meant to do that, he hadn’t meant to _masturbate_ to the thought of Viktor Nikiforov. How will he be able look him in the face now? Not without blushing, that’s for certain.

“ _Hey_ , Yuuri! Once you’re done jerking off to Viktor can you hurry up and get out? I’d still like some of that hot water, you know!”

Yuuri startles when he hears Phichit’s loud voice come from outside the door, and the anxiety he’s starting to feel is pushed back enough as he scrambles to turn the water off and grab himself a towel, cheeks flaming red.

 

* * *

 

 

“I still wonder what sort of books Yuuri writes,” Viktor whines to Chris on the phone as he browses the aisles in a nearby bookstore, in search for a Russian novel that his cousin, Yuri (Yurio, as he affectionately dubbed him after meeting Yuuri, to which Yurio hisses and denies answering when addressed by that name), could read. There’re painfully little in the international book section, but the thought of ordering online hadn’t occurred to Viktor before he had already been half-way to the bookstore.

There’s a pause on the other line, before Chris replies. “Ah, well, I heard from Phichit that the subject is rather... singular. Very _passionate_. Phichit says Yuuri writes like a god.”

Viktor hums, “I wouldn’t expect any less! Yuuri seems like he has a wonderful imagination.”

He hears a huff of laughter from the other end, but chooses not to note it as anything strange, instead pulling out a novel he’d think Yurio would like from one of the shelves, flicking through it absentmindedly. It’s some sort translation work, Viktor can tell from the first few lines with how blocky they sound in Russian, but it’s better than nothing.

“Listen, Vitya, I have to go, but think about what I said, alright?”

“Sure. Bye, Chris,” Viktor doesn’t really know what he should be thinking over, but decides that clarifying would be useless by now. If Chris had wanted to be blunt, he’d have been blunt, that Viktor knows well. Disconnecting the call, Viktor takes the book and heads to the desk so that he can purchase it.

Before he makes it very far, another section catches his eye.

It’s blatantly advertising romance novels, or, at least, the display makes it seem such. Viktor had never really been one for these types of books, opting for his own imagination or a good porno to get him going, but it couldn’t hurt to skim his eye over some of them, could it? He notes that their advertising technique with that little stand covered in hearts and a picture of a woman swooning in a man’s arms had really taken effect.

When he draws closer, he sees that there’s a little sticker stuck onto the side of the stand, printed bold letters saying ‘ _eros’ new novel confirmed to be coming soon!_ ’. Viktor smiles, remembering how Chris had said that Yuuri wrote like a god. Eros had, of course, not come to Viktor’s mind, because Yuuri, writing like Eros? Maybe if he was drunk, but then he had barely been able to string a sentence together without slurring, so Viktor doubts that he could write something like a romance novel properly. Even so, now Viktor is intrigued by this Eros persona. Could he be popular?

Searching the little shelves on the stand for the author’s name, Viktor manages to catch it further down the bottom, on a shelf with a sticker titled ‘gay erotica’. Even though Viktor wouldn’t consider buying it either way, he’s a little thankful that it’s something more to his taste than the dainty girls being fucked by burly men in the other books. Interested, Viktor bends down to take the book, flicking it open.

Though Viktor is in no way shy about sex, two pink spots of colour form on his cheekbones as he sees the sheer amount of ‘ass’, ‘cock’, ‘dick’ and ‘cum’ written on a single page. It definitely looks like something Chris would like, at least. Viktor wonders if he should recommend this Eros person to his friend, or if his friend already knows, and would only try and encourage Viktor to read it.

Viktor turns to the back of the book, to the last page, hoping there’d be a picture of the author. Eros could easily be a woman, in which case there’d probably be no picture attached at all, but either way Viktor is curious to see what kind of person the author is. Whether he’s young or old, handsome in an ‘I write gay sex because I am good at giving gay sex’ way or pretty in a ‘I look like a twink so I write about twinks getting fucked’ way. Viktor finds that he doesn’t particularly care whether they’re attractive or not, because all he can think of is Yuuri on a daily basis now, and Yuuri is neither of these (or maybe a _mix_ of the two). He’s simply curious.

His eyes find the picture, taking it in, even as his mouth drops slightly open.

That’s Yuuri, with his black, beautiful, _soft_ hair slicked back and an attractive smirk curling his lips, staring straight out of the picture and at Viktor.

Viktor feels like he might have a heart attack, even brings up his hand holding the Russian book to his chest and feeling his heart thud away, because what is Yuuri’s picture doing in the back of an explicit novel? What is shy, blushing (though grinding-on-Viktor-whilst-drunk) Yuuri doing, looking like he seduces and dumps men for a living in that photo? On the back of a fucking _erotica_ novel?

Viktor snaps the book shut, placing it on top of the completely innocent, poorly translated novel he means to get for his young cousin Yurio, and rushes to buy them both.

Safe to say, he’s never shoved his money so quickly at a person before, barely bothering to collect the change before he’s out of the door.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What do you think that novel that Viktor picked out was about? ;) 
> 
> Anyway, as always, I hope you enjoyed, and I'm always up for suggestions for the fic of any kind, so please tell me down below OR follow me/chat to me on my tumblr. I'll also be answering all questions surrounding the fic there.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yuuri is Yuuri and Viktor is absolutely whipped, enough to finally fucking do something about it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so, so sorry for taking such a long time to come out with this short chapter. It was meant to be joined with the next, but I wanted to get something out before my birthday (the 19th) for you guys! I'm so shook about how much support this fic has gotten, because honestly I think it's the most trashy thing I've ever written but, hey, I love my two gay sons and if you like how I write them I'm super thankful.
> 
> TRANSLATIONS:  
> Не своди с меня глаз- Ne svodi s menya glaz/don't take your eyes off me.  
> привет, заходи- privet, zakhodi/hey, come in.

The next few days set out in a nice pattern for Yuuri; get up, write, go to work, and write some more. Phichit breaks that pattern by practically shoving food and water into Yuuri’s hands, fussing over his best friend and his bad habits. Yuuri is, of course, grateful. He doesn’t know where he would be without Phichit, without a hot Russian tutor who Yuuri tries hard not to imagine in the morning and in the shower and everywhere else, that’s for certain. With Yuuri working tirelessly and Phichit making sure he doesn’t faint somehow, he makes good-- no, great progress for their meeting today. He already has about three pages of Russian for Viktor to translate, from simple words to longer, drawn out sentences that push obscenity, but don’t quite overstep, because although Yuuri is an erotica writer, he won’t have Viktor translate text of two dudes fucking.

_“ **Не своди с меня глаз** ,” Valery says, leaning in close to Ori. Heat travel’s up the reporter’s neck, staining his cheeks a bright red. His heart beats so fast, and he wants nothing more than to reach out and touch the wreath of blue roses on Valery’s head, or better yet, pull him into a heated kiss. Ori wants to show what he feels for Valery to the entire world, right here, as Valery is about to go out onto the ice. Instead, all Ori can do is give a violent nod, eyes wide._

“How’s it going?” Yuuri startles, pulling out of his writing headspace to see Phichit’s grinning face over his shoulder, holding up a cup of tea and a plate of sandwiches with an expectantly raised brow.

“Fine. Better than ever, actually.” Yuuri replies, smiling, as he takes the offered food and drink.

“Well, I think you deserve a little break! You’ve worked all day and now you’re straining your eyes. You’re ahead of schedule, anyway,” Phichit encourages, kissing Yuuri briefly on the cheek and rubbing at his tense shoulders. “I’m going out, but don’t hesitate to call, yeah? Good luck with Viktor this evening.”

Curling his fingers around the warm cup, Yuuri looks up, raising his brows curiously. Phichit, though a lot more sociable than him, isn’t very prone to going out on such short notice, preferring to stay inside with Yuuri and take-out, watching an old movie on the days when they are free. “Oh, really? Who with?” He says it teasingly, making light. He really doesn’t mind being alone for the day.

Phichit hesitates slightly, “It’s Chris. We’ve been talking.”

“Chris?” It’s not like Yuuri didn’t expect it. Though Phichit had told him that it had only been a casual thing, it never really sounded like it had been meaningless. It might’ve been a drunk grope, but, they fit together well. Yuuri smiles around the rim of his cup, “That’s great, Phichit! I’m happy for you; stay out as long as you want. Will you... be coming home?”

Phichit bursts out into a laugh, nudging Yuuri’s shoulder, “Of course! I’m not _that_ easy. He already got to experience a heavenly, amazing, _wonderful_ blowjob from moi, I’m gonna make him work for anything else,” he wiggles his brows as Yuuri snorts into his tea.

“Go, I won’t die without you!”

“Are you sure?”

“ _Positive_.”

“Alright, mother Phichit is leaving, don’t forget to eat!”

Once Phichit leaves, Yuuri closes his laptop and migrates to the coach in front of the little tv they own, cradling the tea and munching on one sandwich. He can’t help but feel a little jealous of his best friend, even though he knows he shouldn’t be. He’s envious of how casual Phichit is about it; a date, while Yuuri hasn’t been on a proper one in all of his life and writes gay porn to entertain and provide for him.

Wrapping a comforter around himself, and settling in for a short nap until his alarm will ring, Yuuri wonders whether sex on the ice skating rink is possible, or even pushing the boundaries of pornography realism.

 

* * *

 

Viktor had finished Yuuri’s book in two days. He’d barely put it down, even while speaking on the phone to Chris, who, of course, knew everything by that point, and wouldn’t stop teasing him about it the entire time. That hadn’t mattered, though. He was reading something Yuuri had written, and was it _something_.

Though not really his thing, Viktor has to admit that Yuuri has talent. It’s different from what he’d expected; there’d been actual plot, and the characterisation was nice. In fact, Viktor liked reading the book for exactly those reasons, instead of just the mindless sex. Which, granted, there was a lot of. He did enjoy it, but there had been something... _missing_. A lot of it seemed a bit repetitive, but, god, if Yuuri didn’t have imagination! Some of the scenarios brought a blush to Viktor’s cheeks, and made him wonder whether Yuuri has tried some of these things. Whether he... _liked_ these things.

Viktor wonders whether it would be fine to bring up his book during their session. Yuuri hadn’t told him outright, so it might be too forward, but it’s his job, so surely he won’t mind? Viktor will make sure he sounds completely supportive of it (It is a slightly questionable repertoire, he won’t lie) and that way he’ll be able to help more with the novel Yuuri is currently writing!

Just the thought makes Viktor excited; being able to have a bigger role in Yuuri’s writing would mean they’d grow closer.

“I’m in deep, aren’t I, Makka?” Viktor sighs, setting the now finished novel onto the coffee table, scratching between his poodle’s ears.  He barely knows Yuuri at all, really, but the fact that the writer is too adorable for his own good and gets affectionate when he’s drunk seems like more than enough.

Viktor chews on his bottom lip. There’s no way he’ll be able to keep his mouth shut, or else he might do something stupid, like blurt out how he really, really wants to take Yuuri out on a date in the middle of them working. No, he has to do something! Something gentle, though, he has seen enough of Yuuri to know that the other gets nervous.

He really, _really_ wants to call Chris, but his friend had told him firmly that Viktor is old enough to manage one evening by himself and that he’ll be busy on a date. A date. Chris has already managed to snag a date with Phichit (because Viktor is sure it is Phichit) while Viktor is wallowing in misery because, for the first time in his life, he feels anxious about asking someone out.

God, Yuuri probably gets propositioned all the time by men, right? Even though he does look slightly different in the photograph in his novel to how he carries himself, it’d be impossible to not be recognised at all. No, Viktor has to go differently about this.

“I want to make him feel special.” He whines as he cuddles Makkachin close, brows furrowed as he thinks.

Maybe... maybe he can cook them dinner? Something small, because Viktor isn’t actually all that good at cooking, and they can talk about Yuuri’s novel while eating. One candle, too, but Viktor will stop himself at one. He knows he’s prone at being dramatic and going overboard. One candle is good. Maybe two. But that’s _it_.

He hopes that, even if Yuuri doesn’t agree to go out on a date with him, he’ll have a nice time.

Thus, he sets his plan into motion.

After a quick look at google and a list of dinner date ideas (technically, it’s _not_ a dinner date, but he hopes they’ll be able to have an official one someday), Viktor decides that he can’t go wrong with the lemon-garlic pasta listed (the description on this one even said ‘ _hard to mess up, so it’s a good start_ ’ meaning it was as fool-proof as it’ll get), and settles for that. Thankfully, he has all the ingredients, and won’t have to make a mad dash to the store to get things ready in time.

Makkachin weaves in between his legs as he cooks, yipping excitedly at the smell, and Viktor smiles. He can’t remember the last time he’d cooked for someone who wasn’t Chris or Yurio, and even then, they usually order take out instead of bothering to fuss around in the kitchen. It feels right, and Viktor finds himself wondering whether he should practise some more; it turns out to be a surprisingly relaxing activity.

Once the pasta is ready, Viktor adds lemon, red pepper flakes, parmesan and roasted garlic. It ends up looking pretty inconspicuous and casual, exactly what Viktor wanted so that it wouldn’t make Yuuri feel on edge. Nothing comes out particularly burned, either (although it’d be some sort of wonder if Viktor had managed to burn any of that), and smells good. At least, Makkachin seems to think so, excitedly wagging her tail as she stares at the counter.

Bending down to pet her, Viktor grins, taking off his apron and rolling down the sleeves of his sweater. He leaves to fetch a candle (one, just _one_ , a very simple-looking and unscented one) and puts it on the table, lighting it easily with a match.

Setting the table, Viktor wonders if Yuuri would like this. Would he be mad? Maybe all he wants is a relationship where Viktor helps him with his Russian. But, no, that can’t just be it. Although Yuuri had been drunk that night, he must’ve seen something in Viktor. If not, then Viktor will pass this off as a friendly dinner, and be left pining for Yuuri like before.

Viktor grins when he hears the doorbell, quickly running a hand through his bangs and taking a deep breath. He doesn’t lock Makka in his room this time, as she had been unbelievably mad when that had happened last week, and she barks happily in the direction of the door.

“Yuuri, _привет, заходи_!” He opens the door, smiling wide, really, really hoping that this works out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And there we go! Viktor is so thirsty, is2g. Next chapter will be longer and I think you guys will like it a lot, as things will finally be revealed.  
> As always, if you have any suggestions for this fic (sex things they should try count), tell me! :)

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! as always, comments and kudos are very much appreciated.
> 
> tumblr is:
> 
> www.saltycvs.tumblr.com


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